Sex for Breakfast and other Secret Wishes
by viva0los0sacapuntas
Summary: Robin has a huge thing for Beast Boy but he doesn't know--Beast Boy can't look at him without wanting to throw him to the floor... the trial and error emotions and actions of their 'non-realtionshiply' relationship. there will be extensive sex XP
1. Because you can always Run Away

"I'm ready," his voice was rough and strained, unfamilarly so but all the same enticing.

"_Relax…" his lover cooed, curling a finger inside his tight entrance. Robin complied gradually, eventually he was reduced to a puddle of goo, ramming himself back onto the slender finger inside him. _

_Time passed._

"_Please," he whimpered. His lover'd never looked so beautiful, his skin glowing in the moonlight. They escaped to the roof—away from prying eyes and sleeping friends, eager to fulfill their desires. Gentle hands ran up the backs of his thighs, hooking his legs around a slim waist. Robin wrapped his pale arms around his neck, inhaling the trace of ocean air that always clung to his body. He cried out as he was rammed into roughly, exactly how he craved._

_His lover growled in response, shuddering as Robin traced his lips with his tongue, tasting him like a connesieur of the finest wines, reveling in his aftertaste before delving back for felt the tightening in his abdomen and could tell from the tight shudders of his partner that they were both close… Warm lips captured his own, a soft "I love you" was murmured into them, before the floor dropped from under them. Robin came apart rapidly, his lover swiftly following and they were suspended for a second between time and space, in the 5__th__ dimension. Euphoria._

------*

Robin woke with a start. "Oh God," He whispered to himself, peeking under the covers at the mess he'd made. "not again…" The dreams were getting worse, much worse. Over the past months, Beast Boy was growing up. Big time. Unbeknownst to him, the new muscles that rippled under that emerald skin and finally un-childlike height did a lot more than make fighting bad guys easier—they made Robin harder too. In the past month, not a night had gone by where Robin hadn't awoken, sticky and unsatisfied, thoroughly upset that his fantasy of being thrust into up on the roof was still only that. A fantasy.

---------*

"Robin!" the name left Beast Boy's mouth as he showered, his hand moving blindingly faster as the water sprayed over his naked body. The image behind his eyelids was so intense, but dissolved as he came in thick spurts, imagining soft pale thighs parting for him. Suddenly weak after his orgasm, he slumped to the shower floor. Droplets pelted his form as he bit his lips against stinging tears. "Why does it have to be him?" he only crawled to his feet when the water began to run cold, not even looking in the mirror—afraid to look into his own red-rimmed eyes.

-------------------*

"Beast Boy! You better get yo' ass down here or I'm eating yo' fruit salad!" Cyborg called from the kitchen. Soon after, a dishevled looking green teengaer meandered in. Beastboy quickly took in his surroudings and now was no different. In less than a second he noticed:

(1)Starfire laughing through a chewed up mouthful of scrambled eggs—the sunlight glinted through the window, setting the scarlet tones of her hair on fire

(2)Raven sipping quietly at her tea, glancing up at him and smiling lightly though she thought he couldn't see through the thick curtain of her violet hair. She scribbled something down in a leather-bound notebook and remained silent

(3)Cyborg peered into the oven, trying to figure out what had dropped inside and started burning—the gray smoke pouring from the oven door stung his human eye and he kept on reaching up to rub it.

(4) Robin sat on the counter, a piece of toast in his hand. His pale skin looked even more transparent than usual, no doubt dark bags were hidden under his mask. He looked at Beastboy a few times, murmuring to himself.

Beast Boy opened the fridge, pulled out a carton of almond milk and a container of fruit salad. A fork was dug out of the dishwasher and he pulled a seat up next to Star. He ate hastily, after this he'd head to training—that was what he needed. It'd keep his mind off of Robin…

Fuck.

Not today, it was his simulation-sequence rotation this week so he'd be with Robin, weight room, intense cardio, some martial-arts inspired sparring and yoga to cool down. Beast Boy tried in vain not to picture Robin shirtless, sweat dripping down his skin, pooing at the small of his back, his black hair curling from the humidity of the air.

"Shit." He muttered to himself, stuffing the last of the fruit salad into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of almond milk that he tossed into the recyling. Heading back towards his room, he changed into his workout clothes before slipping out the front door, settling inot a rhythm as his feet repeatedly hit the pavement. If he was really going to have to spend the day with Robin, he'd need some composure.


	2. Inside Robin's Head

La-de-da… I have no idea if anyone is reading this but I'll keep writing because BB and Robin deserve more anthems to their obvious made-for-each-otherness and if I don't write 'em down, they will surely invade my brain and drive me up a wall. Let me just say this: Greg Cipes, the voice of BB, is so freakin hot. **Sigh** what a man.

Viva

Robin's POV

It's quiet except for the sound of rapid breathing and the thwack of his fists hitting the punching bag that hangs in the corner. I know without even looking at him that his hair is pushed back from his face though every few punches, it flops in front of his eyes. The thwacking stops and he's muttering to himself, thinking I can t hear him since earbuds are in place while I do pushups a few feet away. He has no idea that no music is on, just as he has no idea that I'm in love with him. I manage 2 more reps, my arms burning like hell.

"Let's go," I raise my voice a little, watching him wrap his long arms around the black punching bag, stilling its swaying. The look in his eyes strictly says 'don't fuck with me' and I bite my lip against a sigh. His chest is bare, slightly defined muscles rippling, contracting and relaxing with every breath as he lets go of the bag and walks over to me. A light sheen of sweat covers his skin and my eyes wander quickly, soaking this up for future use—his pointy ears, full lips, intense eyes and impossibly long eyelashes. I'm thankful for his growth spurts, for the fact that he's not wearing his suit today—only those white basketball shorts that look _too_ delicous against his skin. He's barefoot as usual, a simply braided black anklet encircling his left ankle. Beast Boy even _smells_ amazing, like life, like young athletic male, like youth in all its glory.

Man, I have it _bad_ for him.

He won't look me in the eye—which is expected. He's always hated sparring, especially with me. It's probably because I'm so weak, so predictable, though he always says it's because he's never really been comfortable with blatant violence to another person. He usually picks Raven when I won't accept his excuses anymore; Raven with her quiet composure and undeniable rage. He probably has a crush on her. Not like I blame him, I mean, she's gorgeous, long legs, great curves, she's smart, and not nearly as bossy as I am, I bet she likes him too, his loud laugh—she's probably had him in ways that I'll only ever dream of … Fuck.

Now I'm _jealous_?

He clears his throat and flashes me a quick smile, that fang barely brushing his bottom lip—how I want to run my tongue over it, feel its sharpness. I die a little inside when he unconciously runs his tongue over his bottom lip, not knowing that the single gesture turns me on like nothing else…

I need to get out of this room.

"Beast Boy? Why don't we spar later, I think we both deserve a break." He looked up at me, confused. I've always been the one to live by the words 'a champion always gets up, even when he can't' but he was doing things to me that I didn't want to have to explain. I turn and walk out the door, feeling my shorts grow uncomfortably tighter.

--------------*

The day passes slowly for me, everyone's out running errands and the like, with the exception of Raven. She never goes anywhere really, but she's probably locked in her room like ususal. I wander through the Tower, wishing that someone would come back soon. It's much too quiet, my footsteps sound like explosions against the tile of the hallway. The living room looks forlorn and depressing without a green elf-eared boy lounging on it, his feet on the armrest even though I always half-heartedly tell him not to do that.

The kitchen is a mess. Well, probably not to a regular person, but to Dick Grayson, 'Boy Wonder,' who'd been trained by the Batman that unorganization will always be a hero's downfall, there will always be work to do. I turn on the faucet, a few squirts of dishsoap and a washrag in hand before I start scrubbing.

Times like these make me grateful for my isolated 'childhood', if you'd even call it that. I learned to make do, singing nonsense songs in my head whenever it was too dangerous to make noise, but too boring to just sit in the dark. The water really _is_ 'as hot as I can stand' which is something my Home Ec teacher would be proud of. I think as I scrub the marble counters, the suds like white ocean foam, about it all. About Beast Boy, the only one I've ever loved, about my music, the only place I find comfort, about my hand, where I search for satisfaction but come back, eternally empty, though sticky. I hear the front door _woosh_ open and it jolts me from my wallowing.

"Friend Robin? We have brought nourishment for the evening meal!" Starfire is so excited about this, I can't help but let a small smile creep out. Cyborg follws her, laden with bags full of containers that smell absolutely delicious. Beast Boy brings up the rear, a paper bag clenched in his slender hand. He slips silently to his room.

"Chinese food! Yes!" Cyborg is opening cartons of rice and noodles, chopsticks flying as he stuffs food into his mouth. Beast Boy returns, Raven at his side. I swallow the jealousy that burns in my throat when I see her whisper something to him. He blushes and shrugs, grabbing a carton of rice and sitting next to me on the counter. I try in vain to keep my face from going up in flames when his leg touches mine. Unfortunately, Starfire notiices my sudden blush.

"Oh, friend Robin! Are you hurt?" I shake my head but she continues anyway. "Your cheeks have become most red and hot, I can feel the heat from here. Do we need to have another Rite of Ganesha?" A unanimous "NO" rings out. The Rite of Ganesha is rumored to involve stripping the afflicted party and flogging them with corded rope. As found out at the Christmas party last year, when drunk, Starfire will spout information about her customs that we all wish she had kept to herself.

Unless I'm mistaken, Raven smirks in her chair. Dainty bites of lo mein disappear between her pale lips. Damn her for being so beautiful. No wonder Beast Boy loves her. My laser-like glare towards her consumes all of my energy, taking my blush from my cheeks.

"You gonna eat that?" Beast Boy leans over and whispers in my ear, his breath washing over my cheek. I shake my head though I'm still hungry, offering him my spring roll and fried rice. He whispers his thanks before a small smile shows the small dimple in his right cheek. I want to run my thumb over it so badly, I slide off the counter and head towards my room. I have too much on my mind. I barely register the fact that he calls after me, and keeps on calling even when my doors slide shut.

--------------*

I wake up, sickened with myself. My pajama bottoms are sticky and my head feels full of cotton balls. Groggily, I shut my alarm off, pulling open dresser drawers and heading to the bathroom clean clothes in hand. The spray is cold on my skin, though some part of me knows it's actually warm. My hand finds the knob again, turning the hot water up and steam rushes from the showerhead, filling the bathroom. I'm vaguely aware that it scorches my skin but I leave it like that, a bar of soap in one hand, scrub brush in the other. I scrub myself raw, my skin is red already from the boiling water but the sensation is so painful it almost feels good.

How sick is this. I think to myself, I get off on scrubbing myself in scalding hot water. No way anyone could love the mess I am, expecially not him. But at least I'm clean. I let the water run over my head and my scalp is in so much pain. I gasp-scream at the sfeeling of being almost boiled alive. I shut the shower off and my black hair falls in front of my hair, dripping dwon to the shower floor. I wrap a towel around me and open the bathroom door so the steam can rush out, all the while ignoring the fact that warm tears are sliding down my cheeks and that my face feels stretched and tight from the shower.

Beast Boy? If it's possible in any way, could you please stop torturing me?


	3. The Incident

I must agree. Beast Boy _is_ sexy. Enjoy.

Viva

Beast Boy POV

"Just pick something already." I continue flipping throuhg the channels, partially so that Robin'll get pissed. That seems to be the only way I can get him to talk to me lately... I guess I don't mind since I can barely look him in the eyes anymore, but I do miss his voice. I sneak peeks at him occasionaly, especially on days like today when he doesn't gel his hair so it hangs curly and thick against the pale column of his neck…

Once Robin realizes that I'm _still_ not picking a channel, he huffs obnoxiously (yet looking very hot while he does so) and gets up, heading to the kitchen. I finally pick a show while I hear him rifling through the fridge, settling on some random reality tv show.

"Seriously, Beast Boy? You like Paris Hilton?" Robin sits on the arm of the sofa, shock plastered on his face.

I put on my best 'cheesy-ass cheerleader/fangirl' face and reply,"Of course, like, ohmigod she is _so_ inspirational and stuff." His f ace crinkles up when he laughs, and my heart swells in my chest. "She's so totally like, my hero, ya know? She's like, a regular person except for like, way more richer and more popular-er." By now he's about to fall off the sofa, the bowl of Cocoa Puffs in his hand about to spill on the floor. I grab the bowl away from him and set it on the floor while tears stream down his face.

"I don't know why people like, totally hate her and stuff. It's not her fault that she's just like, way more like, you know, cooler than most other people ever in the history of life." I can't even say that with a straight face and dissolve into fits of laughter myself. He's tottering dangerously close to the edge of the sofa, both of his legs folded beneath his body and when he's falling forward, it's my first instinct to grab him, making sure he doesn't fall and possibly damage that pretty face of his. Instead, he falls onto me, for a second his hands are on either side of my head and he smells so damn _good_…

"Beast Boy?" he squeaks out. Unconciously, I've leaned in and closed my eyes, tasting his scent on my tongue. I breathe it in once more before I answer him, letting the smell of thick forest and ozone fill my lungs. My eyes slowly open, and I'm speechless at the sight above me. Robin's lips are full and pink, mere centimeters above my own—this beautiful rosy blush has invaded his cheeks and his rapid breathing reminds me of my own heart that is fluttering in my chest. He rocks backward, probably to get on his knees so he can get away from me but in doing so, he makes things that much more awkward.

I had been laying on the couch with my feet towards the arm Robin was laying on—so when he fell, he landed between my legs. When he tries to back away, our crotches rub together and two gasps fill the air. Again, acting on instinct, I clench my thighs tighter around him. His head dips dangerously low and I can't help but brush his lips with my own. He practically purrs and leans into me, letting some of his weight fall on my body, his lips soft and smooth against my own—and all too soon it's over, he's pulling away with this possesed look in his eyes, falling over himself as he leaps from the sofa and runs down the hall… and the tears prickling my eyelids are held back by the mere sliver of hope that whispers "Maybe he kissed you back."

------------*

_Later that Night_

"Raven, can you come out for a second?" I'm trying so hard to not sound like I've just been bawling my eyes out, but then again, I never was a very good liar. I hear paper rustling from inside Raven's room and footsteps drawing closer. She unlocks her door from the inside, and stares at me blankly.

"What do you want?" I shrug and then fall to pieces again, tears sliding from my face to the tile of the hallway like lonesome raindrops. At this, Raven sighs, and moves from in front of her doorway, letting me in. I let her lead me to her huge bed, covered in purple and black checkerboarded quilts and when she leaves me sitting there while she heads to her closet, I try to compose myself. I fail miserably. She returns with a small wooden box, plain and uncarved, with a latch on the front.

I open it, and the contents stop my tears altogether because I'm so shocked that she has this—at my birthday party last year, Robin showed me a DVD he had made of himself, his reaction to me after my first day at the Tower, and another one, when he realized I was turning fifteen. I look up at Raven and she nods toward her televison; I meander over and place the DVD in, pushing play. My favorite song comes blaring from the speakers, TNT by ACDC and a fourteen year old Robin, still looking a lot like a little kid begins to speak.

"Well, that Beast Boy…" he struggles for words, his face contorting in the funniest ways, a watery chuckle leaks out of me. "Um… he's cool I guess, aside from the fact that he's like, the baby of the team. But he's pretty funny, if pranks and weird voices are your kind of thing…" Little Robin scratches his head then stares of into space, away from the camera. "I think there's a lot about him that I don't know yet…"

the film switches immediatley to some sort of 'interlude' thing and let me just say, it's no Steven Spielburg… ninjas flash across the screen then random pictures of me stuffing my face with pizza and this close-up of Robin dressed up as the easter bunny… Wishing Well by The Airborne Toxic Effect plays in the background as a seventeen-year old, gorgeous in all his glory Robin shows up on the screen. He's positively _beaming _as he pulls out Starfire's mandolin and plucks away at it, singing in his totally off-key voice.

"Beast Boy! You're turning fifteen! That's so cool! I used to be a kid, way back two years ago, but now I'm seventeen and that means I know more than you do about everything! But you can ask me anytime you want! "Cause that's what it means to be TITANS!" he stop singing and shuts off the camera. A few seconds of buzzing darkness. "Beast Boy? Sorry about the song. That wasn't very team-leadery of me, was it?" he fidgets with his hands as he flushes, looking like I'm about to scold him through the television. "Well… I'm happy that you're on the team. You always know how to make all of us laugh, and God knows we need to laugh sometimes, just to keep from crying."

Next to me, Raven sniffles. I turn to look at her and she glares at me weakly and waves me away.

"Are you listening? Beast Boy… I know I don't say this often enough, and I apologize for that… but I love ya, okay? It's been great kicking criminal butt with you and I hope we're doing it together for a long time." Robin flashes a shy smile at the camera. End credits roll and a ninja slashes through bloopers and outtakes. I pick up the remote and shut the televison off.

Raven and I sit in silence, something strange is burning behinds my eyes but I know it's not tears, not the prickling sensation..

"It's hormones," Raven whispers. The sudden urge to eat until I can't move almost knocks me to the floor with its intensity.

"Go talk to Robin." I shake my head, stomach growling uncomfortably loud. Doesn't she know that I love him? She nods her head. I can hear her voie in my head, it's soft and seems to sigh every word, contrasting to her usual monotone. _That's why you have to go see him… ask him why he doesn't say it._

"Say what?"

fire just about sprung from Raven's eyes. A dark sphere of energy came at me blindingly fast and knocked me to the wall. I was frozen. Stunned. Raven pointed to the door an her icy voice cut to the marrow.

"Go."

-------------*

I stood outside of Robin's door. It was six in the mornign and I knew he'd be out soon—he always was a morning bired. I smiled to myself, thinking of my little Birdie but my hands started to shake and sweat when I knocked on his door. I heard mumblings and cloth sliding against skin. The touchpad on the other side of the door beeped a few times and then the barrier slid open.

"Beast Boy?"

"Hi." My voice cracked, I wiped my hands on my shorts and continued. "Why don't you say it?" Robin blushed and I swear to god it was so heartbreakingly, mindnumbingly beautiful that the planets stopped for a second. Then he was reaching out to me, grabbing my hand and entwining those long pale fingers with mine.

"Because I thought you already knew."


	4. The Taste of Ozone

Sorry for the delay—I've been SICK! D: gross, I know… but I've been watchin oodles of my favorite show, with my favorite little green boy in it! I'm totally loving these reviews, they're the best.

Viva

_Previously (BPOV)_

"_Hi." My voice cracked, I wiped my hands on my shorts and continued. "Why don't you say it?" Robin blushed and I swear to god it was so heartbreakingly, mindnumbingly beautiful that the planets stopped for a second. Then he was reaching out to me, grabbing my hand and entwining those long pale fingers with mine. _

"_Because I thought you already knew."_

_------------------*_

RPOV

I have no idea why I said that.

Beast Boy must think I'm an idiot.

Without noticing, I shrink away from him—stopping only when I realize I've backed up into my desk. I look up, flustered and even more embarassed at my clumsiness, only to find a worried frown on my favorite emerald face. I crack a faint smile and try to shrug off the awkward tension between us.

"You okay, Robin?" He's drawing nearer now. My mind goes into overdrive: _don't let him see your weakness, don't let him see how unworthy you are._ But I can't lie to him anymore, not after saying that 'I thought you already knew' stuff.

He tells me I'm trembling.

Unrelenting, the thoughts come even quicker now, and I'm almost feeling sick to my stomach. _Oh god,_ I pray in my head, _don't let __it__ take me _today. But it will wait for no one.

I'm distantly aware that he's still calling my name and as I fight myself, unsure wether to finally let someone in or not, everything is dark and the taste of ozone fills my tongue.

I am falling.

It's so hot here.

So hot.

--------------*

I wake up and it's like being plunged into ice-cold water. Everything's rushing at me—the flourescent lights of the medical chaamber, the whirring of the air conditioner, the scent of antiseptic and the metallic odor of fresh blood. Wait… blood? Who's been bleeding? Terror grips me and I can hear the monitor's beeps quicken in cadence. Footsteps are coming down the hall.

"Are you okay?" Raven's soft monotone jars me. I wasn't expecting anyone really, but definitely not expecting _her._ She takes off her hood and pulls up a chair. God, she really _is_ gorgeous, I muse to myself and if I'm not mistaken, a blush tinges her cheeks. I really wish she'd stay out of my head. I know she heard that, as I know she ignored it the same way she always does. She scooches the chair closer.

"What happened, Robin?" I really don't know, I shake my head and feel tears prickling behind my eyelids. I'm so _weak_.

"Keep talking to me," she sounds almost frantic so I know something must be wrong but I lose control again, the ozone fills me up and the floor falls away. Raven is screaming.

I am zooming outside of my body.

Outside of the Universe.

Outside of my Life.

-----------------*

They don't know about _it_. The only one who does is Batman, and even he sweeps it under the rug. How will I be able to lead them now, now that they know my flaws?

I daze in and out of consciousness.

Beast Boy is holding my hand. Lips press against my cheek. He smell like the ocean.

Cyborg is whispering into the communicator. Something about medical tests.

Raven sits in the corner. She doesn't talk to me.

I don't know where Star is. I hope she's not too upset.

Warm fingers tangle with mine. But it's not enough. The ozone…

----------------*

BPOV

"What the hell is happening to him?" I'm screaming at Cyborg, at the whole damn world. Robin is fucking falling apart.

"I don't know, Beast Boy," he whispers back, and I come back to my senses, acknowledging that I'm not the only one distraught over the Boy Wonder's condition.

Ironically, he hates being called that—says it makes him sound like some sort of _hero_ or something. Robin never believes in himself—that's painfully obvious right now when he's shrieking and thrasing around on the bed, jack-knifing so badly that Cyborg has to wait at least 3 minutes until he calms enough for the sedative to be injected. Those minutes are some of the most painful of my life, watching him suffer, wild-eyed.


	5. Movie Night and Memories

If you were pissed at the last ending, don't be—I'm about to clear this all up. Some sexage for ya, too. Bonus. Happy Holidays.

Viva.

BBPOV

"You don't have to do this," he looks hilarious when he says that, his lips attempting a stern expression but failing when I mimic him in a much whinier and higher voice. He laughs.

It's Friday. Movie night for the Tower, except Robin is still confined to 'Med chamber only! In the bed!' (exact words of Cyborg) so I decided to still include him—Raven helped me scrounge the television out of my room (it was buried beneath a pile of clothes and paper and god knows what else. But hey, it works!) and I kinda stole the DVD player outta Cy's room, and Star loaned me a couple of movies. Surprisingly, she has great taste—Air Force One, True Grit, Pale Rider, Never Say Never, Independence Day…

"So what're we watching?" Robin asks me softly, I assume that his eyes are closed. I attempt to answer him but sweet Jesus he looks too enticing for words, his head back against the pillow, the pale column of his neck glowing in the faint sunlight. He still wears the mask and it looks impossibly black, like the hair that keeps falling into his eyes, like the Immortal Technique tee shirt he's wearing, like the skintight boxers I know he has on because he sleeps with his ass in the air and I sleep in the chair across the room. I watch his pulse point flutter. He licks his chapped lips. "Beast Boy?" I'm jolted from my reverie.

"We've got a lot of choices," I dump the bag I shoved the movies in over his lap. He rifles through them curiously, muttering a bit about each one as he stacks them in neat piles. "I'm gonna go get us some snacks." He smiles up at me.

"Does that include pizza?" His face light up like a little kid's. I don't say anything though, and for a second, a flicker of disappointment crosses his face. How does he still look so _young_? I nod and he squeals. He _squeals_—like a seven year old boy who got new G.'s for Christmas—he stops suddenly and I realize I'm sputtering laughter. He fake pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go away. Get me my pizza."

______*

Later

Robin falls asleep; I know because his head drops from it's spot on my shoulder to somewhere above my heart. I'm not entirely sure when he let me climb in bed with him… I think it was sometime between Braveheart and Rio Bravo when he started fidgeting around.

"You okay?" I had asked him.

He shrugged.

"I don't know what that means, Robin."

He shrugged again. Then laughed. Tears glistened in his eyes.

"You want me to come over there with you?'

He nodded. A tear ran down his cheek. Flustered, he rubbed it into his skin. I made my way to him and climbed in next to his warm body. Surprisingly, I found that his head fits perfectly in the crook of my arm.

"You okay now?" I looked down at him, he blushed furiously and just burrowed into my side.

--------*

Even Later than Before

I guess we both fell asleep there, when I woke up in the middle of the night, the television screen was blue and Robin was still fidgeting—except now it was _really_ uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable because it felt bad, but because it felt _good_… His slender hips just wriggling side to side; I could hear his labored breath and I stifled my own groan.

_He doesn't know I'm awake._ That fact alone is so hot that I'm about to fucking explode now, but when he whimpers my name in that throaty voice, "Beast Boy…" I scream silently into the back of his head, inhaling the fresh scent of his hair. One of my hands creeps up his thigh, resting lightly on his narrow waist. I'm whispering to him now, "Robin… Baby, I'm right _here_." And he suddenly rolls toward me, his eyes still closed, one of his cold hands tracing my ear as he kisses me shyly, slowly—his lips are silky and warm, they taste absolutely amazing, like bravery and courage and the image of heroism he's always been to all of us. …

I pull back, putting myself back together because I really don't want to hurt him but I'm way too horny for my own good. I look down at him, his pale skin fucking _glows_ in the moonlight, the thick shadows of his eyelashes against that ridiculous mask are so innocent, so _pure_… but his eyes are still closed, even when I lower my lips to his cheek, mezmerized by his scent. My lips crave a pulse point, they wander to his neck—_ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump_… and I know this sounds familiar… where have I heard his heart like this before?

-----------*

Flashback

"_Robin? Wanna play some cards?" I'm sitting on the sofa, watching him stomp around the kitchen, washrag in hand. He grunts as a reply and continues scrubbing the counter. I'm oddly surprised that he hasn't yelled at me for being up so late. It's 3 o'clok in the morning and I'm sitting here watching Jackass._

_A few pots fall from the rack over the island. I look over quickly to assess the damage and find that Robin has slumped over in the corner next to the lightning-speed, I scoop him up, relieved that he doesn't smell like blood or wince when I arrange him on my lap. For a while, I just sit there, waiting for him to say something, running my fingers through the thicket of curly black hair on his he starts to mumble things cutely and I can feel myself blushing. He must not know he's saying this. "Beastie… want him so b-bad… _want_ him…" and I don't think he's awake (since he's talking about me like I'm not in front of him) so I tilt him up, pressing my fingers to his pulse point. _Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump…

_-------*_

I realize that Robin's asleep. I know he doesn't know he does things like this, but it still both terrifes and excites me to know that the only way he can be assertive with me is when he's unconcious. I'm still hard as a rock, but I force myself to think of things that make the blood rush away from the bulge in my pants, like Slade in a man-thong, or Bumblebee naked, or Robin in a bubblebath—wait, not the last one… I roll over on my stomach and will myself to fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning to find that the bed is empty. There's only a note.

**Beast Boy,**

**I need to tell you what's been so wrong with me. I'm sorry I cried last night. Please don't tell the others. I trust you.**

**Robin**

And somewhere deep in my chest, what must be my heart swells and breaks—what's wrong? Why _was_ he crying? And why the hell does he trust me? And then I remember that morning in his room. It feels like forever ago—"I thought you already knew."

So I drag myself out of bed and stretch, because if Robin's brave enough to tell me the truth, I might as well have the balls to listen.


	6. The Kitchen is Now a Confessional

You are probably disappointed in me for failing to update in ages.

I accept that because I'm disappointed too.

What happened is: I wrote myself into a corner and I was unsure how to continue. However, today my brain finally stopped conspiring against me and let this dramatic scene finally unfold. I've really missed you guys. Keep reviewing.

VIva

BBPOV

"Good morning everyone," Robin mumbles with false cheer. We're all gathered in the kitchen; Cy is stirring the wet ingredients into the dry ones for pancakes while Raven is at the table, a sad smile on her lips. Starfire just sits on the counter, swinging her feet back and forth, letting them bang on the cupboards. Robin flinches each time her heel makes contact with the dark wood.

"What is this about, friend Robin?" the question is laced with worry and confusion, and all the other negative things that time on this planet has caused Star to feel. I've been trying to avoid looking at him but I do now, and his hair is a mussed halo around his face, he's also picking at his hangnails which we all know is a sign of intense stress from the Boy Wonder.

"You know how I like everything to be clean, right?" We nod silently, Robin's preferance for the impeccable has driven all of us crazy at some point. "Well, I think maybe I should tell you why I'm… like that." He sighs and sounds defeated. After a pregnant pause, he begins.

RPOV

It takes me much too long to tell them. And it's hard to confess The Fiend whose voice sounds a lot like Bruce's (which is probably why I obey It) than it is to bare myself by revealing my bigger weakness.

I'm not sure how they're taking this, Cy has abandoned his breakfast preparations and stares past me, through me. A few odd sniffling noises escape him. Raven bows her head the entire time and I'm grateful for that, because I can barely stand being in the same room as her, much less looking her in the face as she comprehends my inadequacy.

"My parents were sticklers for tidiness… That's actually my first memory of my m-mother." I'm a little choked up but I blink back the sting and remember my dignity. "She was bleaching my sheets… I had wet the bed during a 'session', (That's what my seizures were called when I was young.)"I was three years old and she kept…" It's getting harder now. "She kept muttering about me like I wasn't e-even, _there_." And I can't hold it back any more, the sobs come pouring out and I crumple against the wall, flinching at the sensation of mask-to-fingertips because even after all this time, it feels foreign to me. "'Damn kid can't even control himself,' she'd say… 'needs to learn common sense… Th-this foolishness will not be tolerated'"

I guess this is the breaking point, the filter between my head and my mouth is obliterated and The Fiend is silenced if only for now. I tell them everything: from the 'games' that were really drills on my metal capabilities, the confinement I endured as a sidekick, how my aversion to physical contact came from a family that didn't so much as hold my hand unless crossing the street, how my epilepsy was constantly overlooked, even when I knew my triggers (bright flashing lights, sever internal temperature change, terror, fatigue, the color purple, the smell of burning leaves) I couldn't avoid them without causing a disturbance. And the only thing I hated more than my seizures, the taste of ozone behind my tongue and the pulse around my eyes, was having the cause of chaos, the cause of a break in routine, be _me._

It's like I'm not in my body anymore, I'm floating above it—watching that green-haired elf-eared boy as he worries his bottome lip between his teeth with a furrowed brow. He stands, coming toward me and I expect the worst because I'm nothing he deserves, I'm too weak.

He stretches a hand to me, I take it. Standing, I press my eyes shut. For a while I hear nothing but my shaking breaths and uneven pulse, but then warm lips are at my ear. "You are the bravest person I've ever met." There are tears in his voice as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him like the universe is a puzzle and I am the missing piece.


	7. Cipes and Combat Boots

School is out. What does that mean?

If you guessed updates like the dickens, you win a prize. I'm not sure where you can claim that prize or what it is, but hey… a prize is a prize.

BBPOV

"You should probably put him to bed," Raven looks at me, still shaken from what Robin has just told us. He sobbed for quite a long time in my arms, but now he's at that I'm-not-crying-I –just-can't-breathe stage, snuffling into my chest and burying his head into my neck. Cyborg says nothing, just puts a plate of pancakes in front of me. I remember Robin still hasn't eaten.

"Friend Beast Boy?" Starfire's voice is laced with tears again. "Will Robin be okay?" I can't even answer, I just look away as Raven puts a hand on Star's shoulder and distracts her whilst talking about Rundlesnorcks, which are (according to our beloved Starfire) great at cheering people up because they have colorful spronglets that bloom around the Eleventh of Yorglbrond.

I make a mental not to thank Raven for her _exquisite _patience and social skills after this day is over.

Robin is light in my arms, and balancing the plate of pancakes while scooping him up against me is a lot easier than I thought it would be. His doors slide open with that mechanical whirr, and I realize this is the first time I've actually been inside The Boy Wonder's room.

And it's nothing like I thought it would be.

I thought he'd be the geeky type: very organized, very obsessed with gadgets, almost ridiculous in the sheer quantity of technology crammed into h is personal space but… Robin _is_ very neat. He is also unknowingly advertising every great musical group since the dawn of time. Pink Floyd, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Sex Pistols, Simon & Garfunkel, Brooke Waggoner, Academy All stars, Jimi Hendrix, Immortal Technique, The Script, Tupac, The Notorious B.I.G., Nine Inch Nails, Coldplay… all of these and more have their own posters up on his walls, and under almost every one is a picture of Robin with the group. My favorite picture is of Greg Cipes and Our Amazing Birdboy: they're both too stunning to really look at head on. It could be a still life called _Opposites in Motion_ because they're roughly the same height, that 5'4"ish, the same slender build, the porcelain skin, the long limbs and slightly pointed chin… but where Robin's hair is inky black, windswept while he looks down, away from the camera, laughing—Greg is blonde, his eyes a startlingly bright blue, grinning while his arm is around narrow shoulders.

It should be illegal for both of them to be in the same room, much less have evidence of such an encounter. I may have to confiscate that picture for later use.

I sit Robin on his bed, place the pancakes on his night table and begin to unlace his combat boots. Which are even sexier in person than I imagined them to be all these years as he sashayed through The Tower in nothing but a pair of criminally tight black shorts and those boots. His socks are mismatched: one blue, one yellow. I make another mental note to ask if he's colorblind. It seems like Robin would throw a fit if he knowingly put on socks that didn't match.

As soon as I release his feet from their tempting leather prison, Robin curls himself up in the fetal position, burying his head into his comforter until I sneak a pillow under his head. All of this time, I've been avoiding looking directly at him, touching him, smelling him, but it backfires when he sleepily claws at his mask before peeling it off, and I finally see the second best thing to Robin's eyes.

I see those full lashes cast long shadows over the pale rise of his cheeks. He smells like soap and lightning and rain, and I can't resist running my fingers through his silky black hair. He sighs and leans into my touch, rolling onto his back. It would be impossible to make me move my fingers from him now. At his point, I talk every last drop of self-control and force it not to let me claim his mouth with mine, leaving angry mouth-shaped bruises down the pale column of his neck, not to rip the shirt and shorts off of him, not to expose all of his creamy marble-skinned glory to my eyes right this second.

I cup his face in my hands, loathing myself for the torment I'm about to put myself through, and I kiss his forehead gently. So gently, like the weight of Raven's fingers caressing her old encyclopedia of Dark Arts, like the sound of Starfire laughing at the soap bubbles while Cy washes the dishes, like the press of his lips onto mine so many weeks ago, before this mess.

Robin starts making these sounds.

My mind goes crazy, cataloguing smells and sounds and movements quick as a flash: Robin's Unstyled Hair, The Way Robin Moans In His Sleep, Robin's Skin, The Writhing of Robin Into His Mattress, The Wriggle of Robin's Hips as He Tries to Wake Up, The Shadows Of Robin's Long and Slender Fingers Over His Face, The Smell of The Soft Skin Behind Robin's Ear…

He whispers to me, his voice ragged with previously swallowed tears and a short nap, "Thank you for the pancakes." I tell him they were from Cyborg, he nods sagely, his face scrunched up in the most adorable way I've ever witnessed. I start to leave, but his long fingers wrap around my wrist and he pulls me to lie next to him, his hips cradled in mine once again. He falls back to sleep quickly, I press my lips to the nape of his neck, smiling at The Texture and Scent of Robin's Neck, which is soft yet firm at the same time, tasting slightly of electricity and adrenaline along with clover honey.

"Love you, Beastie." He rolls over, the arm I had under his neck is now wrapped around his back, mumbling into my neck, his breath so hot and moist, his lips almost brushing my skin and I am rock hard, biting my lips to cage my whimpers.

_Oh Robin, I love you too._


	8. Does all Alfredo lead to Angels?

Thanks for the reviews :D

They're stellar as always… Go check out We Should Be Too Old For This.

Read, review, enjoy-repeat

-Viva

RPOV

I woke up alone in the dark.

I felt around my bed, smelling _him; _the scent of ocean air and rain on crumpled sheets. My eyes burned and my throat was parched and sore, classic 'I-cried-myself-to-sleep' symptoms. It hadn't been a dream.

I got up, rubbing half-heartedly at my eyes, avoiding the bathroom because I really didn't want to see how horrible my hair looked. Padding down the hall towards the kitchen, I wasn't surprised to see Cyborg in the living room, watching some old episodes of Chowder.

"Hey there Robbo!" I smiled weakly, waving.

"I made chicken alfredo and garlic bread for dinner, your plate is on the second shelf next to the blueberry cobbler."

I put the plate in the microwave for a few minutes, poured myself a glass of sweet tea, and sat on the counter. I really _could _go back to sleep, but the hunger pangs in my stomach were getting ridiculously intense, even after I ate the pancakes.

"So, about earlier," Cyborg looks awkward, scratching his scalp as he stands in the doorway. I feel myself blush as I avert my eyes. "I just wanted to tell you that if you wanted to take them, I have some medication on the way for your seizures." My eyes are beginning to well up with tears, which ought to be impossible seeing as I've cried almost all day.

"Thanks, Cy."

"No prob, kiddo." The microwave beeps.

"One more thing," I'm fishing for clean silverware in the dishwasher. "BB told me to tell you to go see Raven before you go back to bed." I nod crisply, looking as detached and confident as possible when standing on tiptoes and licking my lips because that alfredo smells _heavenly_. I curse my height-lacking genes.

"I'll be sure to do that."

Cy turns, with that small smile he uses in place of words that neither of us are really comfortable with saying or hearing, before he flops back on the couch, enjoying his show.

At the table, between my flickering thoughts about the welcome weight of a green forearm across my waist, and the undeniable fact that I need to learn how to cook because I have _no idea_ how Cyborg made this so delicious—I try to figure out why I need to go see Raven. I really don't feel like standing there, trying to make my mind blank as she just _observes_ me like I'm some sort of interesting new fungus.

After washing (and re-washing) my plate, I'm back down the hall again, the last door on the right. She opens the door as I lift my hand to knock.

"Good evening."

I nod in reply; her stiff greeting does nothing to ease me. Raven steps into the hallway with a sigh.

"You are interested in Beast Boy." She doesn't even ask, just states it like a fact everyone knows, which should surprise me since I haven't told anyone in the Tower (besides indirectly BB) that I like men. My face must betray my thoughts because she scoffs and continues with a sly smile.

"You don't know how to be subtle, Robin. After you and Star broke up and BB had his growth spurt, you pretended like he didn't exist. You used to treat him like an annoying little brother but then just avoided him and mumbled whenever he talked to you." Her voice is soft and direct, but her attempted air of detachment fails when she smiles to herself.

"Then you started letting him have your _food_?" She's grinning now, blindingly bright and something I've only seen maybe twice before. "At first, I thought you were just feeling like you were losing control of The Tower and your position as our leader, but then you kept avoiding his eyes, and pleas to help him pick out new furniture, and _sparring_ when he so obviously wanted to impress you…"

At this point, I doubt I can blush any deeper. The heat of it has spread down my neck and up to my ears, probably to my chest by now.

"When he brought you to the med chamber, after your _grand mal _seizure," The lack of light must distort my vision because for a second I see a glimmer of tears in Raven's depthless eyes. "He was so distraught, he slept in that room every night, wouldn't eat until Star broke down, telling him she couldn't stand to lose _another_ friend. " Guilt and remorse wrap oily fingers around my heart and squeeze just hard enough to make me catch my breath and shed a few stinging tears.

_You can only hurt him, you already have, Robin… how can he love someone who is broken? Someone who constantly breaks him? _I attempt to crush the Fiend, but feel myself losing control. The second the taste of ozone hits my tongue, a wave of calm hits me like a slap in the face.

(Don't you dare do this to us again, Robin. You will heal. You _will.)_

"I don't mean for you to blame yourself, it's not like you can control _everything… _I just wanted to—" She reaches out to me, violet eyes red around their rims, eyes squinted shut as she flinches away. "He's really happy with you." She looks at me, through me, to my soul—solemn and serious, gorgeous and lethal. Her eye are solid amethysts, the mask of stoicism falls again, but not before a tortured kind of agony furrows her brow.

"Don't fuck this up."

Before she heads back to her room, she presses her lips to my forehead quickly, pulls me into a fleeting embrace, her arms cool and soft around my neck. I think that if we weren't so used to our roles; she being that quiet poet who has a dark side, and I just a scared kid with a hero complex and a secret life—if we were in a different scenario where we weren't so goddamn jealous of each other spending time with an emerald boy we _both_ once claimed to despise, Raven and I would be friends.

I meander up to the roof, refusing to go back to sleep under the ruse of 'criminal watch', but I know I'm just hoping I'll find a certain pointy-eared boy. The railing is chilly to the touch and I really wish I wasn't barefoot, but to descend into the Tower would be to descend into my thoughts and I'm not sure that's the best place for me to be right now.

"Couldn't sleep?" He's there, laying on his back in a Manchester United sweatshirt that I bought him for his birthday last year, a serene smile on his face. I blush and shake my head, he motions me over.

"Me neither." I shiver, wishing I had a jacket or a blanket. It really should be illegal to move like he does, all elegance and long limbs as he rises, pries at a loose tile and hands me a thick gold fleece that smells like him with a pair of wool socks are in the pocket. It must not be new, the length is perfect for me but we haven't been the same size for almost a year. I still have to roll up the sleeves; he always had longer arms than I did. He continues prying tiles up until we're seated on two bean bag chairs, sipping on cans of coke though we've both confirmed numerous times with obscenities galore that it's cold out.

"What's your favorite animal to phase into?" I don't know when my mouth decided to ask questions without the consent of my brain, but maybe it was while I was transfixed by the shadow beneath his lower lip. The very lip that he chews while thinking. They very lip that I wish I could nibble on,. The very lips that is a sin in itself, without a doubt—

"I don't really have a favorite animal, but I've definitely got a favorite 'feature'." He grins as he makes air quotes, that dimple in his right cheek a stark reminder of the boy he was in the man's body he has acquired. "I love having wings."

My mouth is suddenly dry as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head, his hair mussed by the wind, the muscles in his arms are long and ropy like the rest of him, his shoulders broad and shivering away from the ocean-wind that shares in my yearning to caress his entire body.

"Over the years, I've taught myself to isolate my transformations, so I can just have fish gills or a duck's webbed feet. It's still not practical though, my brain sometimes gets confused when it think I can't breathe under water but the gills are suffocating above the water."

"Oh." And that is my intelligent response, followed by an okay when he asks me to cover my eyes.

"You know my logic, Robin," we both chuckle. "Even though I know something may be unreasonable, I've been known to do it anyway. Open your eyes."

It's a good thing I'm already sitting down because if I wasn't, my legs would've gone all 'wet noodle' on me anyway. A pair of wings I've only ever seen in movies or cartoons stretch from his back, reaching up towards the crescent moon, thick white feathers, and that baffles me almost as much as the shy smile he casts my way. After a few moments, I catch my breath and acknowledge that the heavy heat in my jeans is caused by this _angel_, with his white fangs and green skin, looking like the ultimate Halloween costume (the most attractive goblin-vampire-seraph I've ever imagined), in an endearingly sexy way , of course.

"How are… the w-wings? They're white!"

"That they are," he grins wider, "Whenever I use isolated transformations, the feature is always it's natural color. I use the wings of a swan."

_How fitting_. And it should not turn me on so much to be stared at by a being that should be pure and holy, but with those eyes, that smile, the way his pink tongue check the sharpness of his fang, I was hopeless before he got the wings. My blush is only intensified when his hands pull me into his lap, his lips hot and moist on my neck.

"You should never wear a shirt," at first I don't recognize that light and airy voice to be mine, but it squeaks when teeth nip at my pulse point, so I'm pretty sure it's yours truly.

His hands are splayed on my hips, snapping me down onto his and the feeling of his length being dragged across mine is a kind of torture only fitting to come from this winged beast. My hands are in his thick hair, pulling his face to mine so I can revel in the feeling of his lips pressed to mine. They're silky and warm like the rest of him, tasting of chocolate and coke, faintly of cherries as his tongue does things that I'm not even sure to describe much less reciprocate.

We build a shaky rhythm, between the frantic clashing of pelvises and devouring of mouths amd that annoying need our bodies have for oxygen when they should be aware that our worlds have shrunk drastically, only encompassing two bodies and the _electricity_ that runs through them. _Press, slide __**breathe**__, press, slide __**breathe**_. But it's too much too fast, I'm moaning into his mouth and clenching my fingers tighter in his hair when I'm done for, thrown from a high precipice into deep dark waters. Strong arms wrap around me and his voice is soft and strained in my ear, "Robin…" and nothing has _ever_been like this before, his eyes are wide and luminous, solid jade orbs.

A few minutes later, we try to compose ourselves, still awkward and sticky.

"If we're gonna do that _every _ time I get the wings out, I might have to use them permanently." I smirk from my seat on the railing, watching his wingless back ripple as he drops various object beneath the abundant loose tiles.

"I dunno, Cy might get suspicious when we both have so much laundry that needs washing."

"True, true… but I'm not convinced you don't secretly have a thing for 'angels'."

I blush instead of replying, he winks and we head down the stairs, descending into the real world, where (hopefully) the only difference is that we aren't alone and can barely keep our hands to ourselves as we make our way back to our own rooms.


	9. In Which A Series Of Events Is Described

Oh gee, these reviews are awesome. More please?

Enjoy…

Viva

BBPOV

The days begin to blur together after that night, only remembered by the amount of contact I had with Robin.

_Robin._

His name feels succulent on my tongue, weighty and pleasant.

I still wake up with the dawn, yoga on the roof before either heading back to bed for a quick nap or just scarfing down some breakfast, avoiding a sleep-mussed face and lips swollen from breathing through his mouth.

_His lips taste of strawberries and lightning._

I train. I'm getting stronger every day, running along the beach or flying to the forest, scaling trees and stony bluffs. I go for a swim and come back to The Tower, dripping saltwater everywhere until Raven conjures a towel because she's 'sick of that miserable squelching noise'.

I shower. A few times, Robin comes in the bathroom while it's steamy and humid, sitting on the counter, making small talk as I use those minutes to practice self-control and keep from devouring him. Usually, I just dawdle in there, wondering if my practice on the cold, unforgiving tiles of the shower are helping me woo him with what I hope are my superior kissing powers.

_He kisses like he learns, through mimicry and modification._

Cyborg manages to throw a sandwich my way, and then I'm just wandering Jump City, avoiding the paparazzi that have developed a certain _fondness_ for green boys-who-grew-up that have pointy ears and wear Aqualung tee-shirts.

"Give us a smile!" And I'm trying not to get too pissed off and run away screaming, the flashes hurt my eyes, but I catch a glimpse of him standing behind the loudest of them all. He mouths 'poor BB' and scurries away, leaving a team of paparazzo and reporters confused as to how and why a usually sullen, green, shapeshifter blushed and smiled at that despicable excuse for a human being, Roland Iverson.

_No one else over the age of seven could get by with scurrying._

I patrol the streets some more, take pictures with some tourists from the Midwest and tell them to give my love to Ricky Stanzi since they follow college football. After that, I stop at that creepy bookstore Raven likes; check the price on the book I want to get her, _Curses and Calligraphy: A Guide for Sophisticated Sociopaths in the 21__st__ Century_. Either she'll hate it or love it; the jumbled text is a delightfully dreary collection of anecdotes from the most cynical, jaded, fashionably depressed, semi-humans that the world has kept track of.

"Excerpts from: Severus Snape, The Grinch (Pre-Heart), The Green Goblin, Tom Riddle and more…"

Whoever published that shit made some _serious_ coin. I laugh to myself all the way home.

"Friend Robin has said that you are in trouble, Friend Beast Boy." Starfire's lilting voice sounds (I can't believe it) a touch _sly_, and I can almost picture his muttering, pacing self, wearing holes through his carpet.

"Okay," I duck as Cyborg attempts to swat me over the head with a rolled up newspaper, reminding me that I was supposed to pick up my own soy milk and since I'd forgotten, I wouldn't be having a milkshake with my black bean burger. I pout and knock on a door I've grown quite close to.

"Where _were_ you?" He's ravenous and I am the last meal on earth. He's small and mighty, deceptively slim arms dragging me down, pale hands in my hair, delving deep into my moth leaving me breathless and tingling. Teeth, straight and even, combine with slick lips in a seal on my neck, his tongue worries my pulse. My cock fills so rapidly, I'm lightheaded.

"Oh Robin… Shit."

Shirts are removed.

The beauty of the contrast between my fingertips and his flawlessly creamy skin can only be surpassed by those delicious whimpers as I toy with his rosy nipples. He groans and simultaneously grinds into me, causing me to see bright stars and a kaleidoscope of colors as his heart thunders under my lips.

"F-Fuck…Lemme just…Don't _move._" and nimble fingers pull at my jeans, my eyes roll back in my head as he takes the zipper down, seemingly tooth by tooth, until he's _there_ and my hips buck against his touch, his fucking magical velvet fingers are around me, my screams muffled by his sinful lips, swallowed by that pink tongue. His thumb dips into the fluid at the head and slips under paper-thin skin, and I can't take it. I'm gasping for breath against the corner of that wicked mouth, shuddering as he nurses the bite-bruise that I'm sure is a deep purple by now.

"What th—?" I'm cut off as those fingers leave their post (no pun intended) to gently pull my bollocks away from my body. It pinches and I sink my teeth into his shoulder and murmur useless threats against his soft skin. He reaches further back, grazing the softer, thinner skin there as I praise whatever higher being there must be for allowing this moment where all is right with the universe and his hand is moving as fireworks explode behind my eyes. His pulse is _sprinting_ as I come apart all over his beautiful fingers.

"Wh-what about you?" And he presses his lips to my temple, whispering "Tonight."

Minutes later, we're both trying desperately _not_ to smell like sex as we scrub ourselves in his bathroom. I refrain from throwing glances at his kiss-swollen lips because I know that if I kiss him now, I'll taste myself. Remembering how he cleaned each digit of his with that pink tongue make my face heat again so I concentrate on making my hair look almost decent.He presses a swift kiss to his mark on my neck before I go.

"Aren't you guys hot?" Cyborg asks as we sit down to eat. It's been so hot that he's refused to cook inside until the temperature of an oven in The Tower doesn't cause him to snap at everyone in a five-mile radius. I blush, scooping more vegan potato salad onto my plate, adjusting my scarf and hoping that the tender blemish is covered. Raven smirks and sips more sweet tea, amused by the silence as well as Cy's confusion.

"Actually, Cy, I read online that bundling up after a workout promotes healthy muscle growth and relieves insomnia because—"

Cyborg waves a hand, dismissing Robin's _beautiful_ falsehood.

"That's nice… wait, when did you guys work out?"

I will myself not to blush anymore and craft some passable excuse that once I came home, Robin and I had worked on a few techniques from the Tamaranian Warrior Handbook that Star had given each of us this past Christmas. Cy nods and moves on, I catch Robin's gaze and smile briefly at him; the sight of his still-swollen bottom lip caught between my teeth renews my appetite for something other than freshly grilled vegan dinner options.

Somehow, we get through the meal without abandoning our poor facades for the sake of our fellow housemates. Raven collects everyone's plate, mine last, and whispers "Congrats on your brilliant non-truth."

I'm too surprised to laugh, blushing instead until Starfire notices and proposes The Rite of Ganesha.

Then I'm pouting.

Because Cyborg's passing out chocolate milkshakes and I didn't get one.

Oh well, another day in the life of a pointy eared grass-colored teenager who just so happens to be in love with a saucy minx who conveniently shares a house with said teenager.


	10. A Routine Is Broken and Eyes Opened

Continuation from the last chapter… somehow, the Pretty!Robin bug has infected me and whilst I enjoy this 'illness,' the only cure is writing it out. Also, some one-shots may be in the making. Wouldst thou approve?

Enjoy, dearies… never forget to review!

Viva

RPOV

Standing in front of the mirror, I almost blushed as the voice in my head (who wasn't The Fiend, he sounded like BB) whisper _Hot damn… robin, you've outdone yourself._

X~X~X

After dinner, we'd gone about out mockery of a routine, per usual, I murmured that Beast Boy should help me wash dishes and pretended to get annoyed as he flicked suds at me as he giggled. I smirked as he lost very vocally to Cyborg in their five-set game of tennis on the Wii. As he fixed his after-dinner cup of tea and made small talk with Raven (complaining about the wiles and unfair strategies of the game), I bustled about the living room trying to clean while being amused by Starfire's play-by-play of the last twenty-four hours.

The clock struck eight.

This is where time started to draw out; I'd go to my room and try to distract myself for a few hours before meeting him on the roof. This afternoon had been great, honestly… really _memorable_. (I can't believe I was so _forward_ ) but I was really looking forward to tonight.

I took a shower, taking my time to wash my hair with the new shampoo that I'd bought a few days ago. It smelled like well water, cold and brisk… as I breathed in the steamy air, I wished that I wasn't alone in my shower. Closing my eyes, my hands did a poor imitation of what BB's did; caressing my torso like it was made of blown glass, but it was missing something- oh yeah, soft lips on mine, a hot tongue at my neck…. I was tempted to let my hands roam lower but stopped myself, wanting to give him the pleasure of being my first orgasm today.

After dawdling a few more minutes (singing some Aqualung, running my hands up and down my forever-smooth legs) I padded out into my room, glaring at my closet full of clothes.

Frankly, I was bewildered, and as I glanced at the clock tolled nine, my mind was on the 'Hella Nervous as well as Confounded' setting so I did what I never thought I'd do.

I pulled out my phone and called Raven.

She recommended the dark indigo jeans that I'd always found tight enough to come off as slutty, and a simple crewneck with the surprisingly gorgeous grey sweater that Star had knitted me for my last birthday.

After blow-drying my hair on impulse, not wanting to dry out my hair with more gel, (I may be vain, but I have my limits) I threw on the outfit, admiring my reflection.

The sweater hugged my shoulders and the jeans made my ass look _amazing_. My hair was curly, but not frizzy, and the high spots of color on my cheeks as I smiled shyly at myself made me look innocent and virginal.

_Both are qualities you __do__ have, Robin._

I looked closer at my face. My skin was clear, thanks to my genes, and my freckles (though I wished they would fade completely) scattered across my nose and cheeks. My eyelashes were slightly girlish, framing big eyes the color of—oh shit! I forgot my mask! I checked my watch again, then put one on quickly, hurrying as quietly as I could up to the roof.

I actually had to head back to put on some shoes.

The boy makes me forget common sense…

X~X~X

BBPOV

To say he looked beautiful would be an understatement.

I don't know how he knew, but he was wearing the sweater I've always loved him in, along with the pair of jeans that had me taking cold showers for a week straight after I saw them hugging his slim hips like perfection. Ebony curls hung loosely about his face, no doubt as soft to the touch as they appeared.

"Hi." His voice was breathy and as I whispered my greeting against his lips, I could feel him smiling. He smelled different—like deep water on top of his usual strawberries-and-lightning scent… he was like a thunderstorm at Wilson's, the farm my parent used to take me and my brother to pick apples, strawberries, gourd; lots of seasonal fruits and vegetables.

"Are you okay?" We had stopped kissing; I was just nuzzling my face into his neck and trying to keep breathing.

"Yes," and I led him by the hand to our usual setting, beanbags and blankets, a six-pack of Coke between them.

I sat in my own chair, perplexed as to why he wasn't seated, and then found myself with a lapful of long-legged Boy Wonder, his mouth slick and hot against mine. When we had to stop for breath, he looked down at me, his lips swollen and full… before I knew it I had whispered my request to him.

"Okay." He said after a long period of time, reaching up to pull the dark plastic of his mask from his face. The dim light did nothing but play up his features, casting shadows against the curve of his jaw, long streaks against his cheeks, catching the undeniable _lavender_ of his eyes and rendering them even more breathtaking than they already were.

Eyes open, I plundered his sweet mouth again, watching those hyacinth eyes be engulfed by dilated pupils, his skin soft against my fingers, and softer still at his waist. Popping the button of his jeans open, I slid the zipper down slowly, stilling his bucking hips with my other hand. He rose on his knees and after a few tries, we managed to pull down the tight denim (that was the same color as his eyes) to the middle of his thighs.

My own pants grew considerably tighter at the sight of him, his pale cock rosy at the head, curving against his navel as he stared up at me, cheeks flushed and lilac eyes heavy-lidded and tainted with more than a bit of lust.

Taking him in hand, I relished every move he made and began cataloguing them. The Gasp-Screams of Robin's Aroused State, The Way Robin Bites His Lower Lip, The Feral Bucking of Robin's Hips, The Sound of My Name (Riddled with Longing) From Robin's Full Rosebud Lips…

And this is right, this is _right_. I know it as I sink my teeth into the supple flesh that joins neck and shoulder, fascinated by the quickly appearing pink haze around it, marking him as mine. I know it as he whimpers against my neck as I sample the underside of his chin while stroking the thin-as-silk skin of his perineum, feeling him throb in my hand as he spurts long slippery ropes over both of us, kissing me as tears glisten like pearls in his dark lashes.

I know it as I take the towel from my back pocket and clean us up, watching him sip a can of coke with his denims unzipped and unbuttoned. He smiles at me again, and I know he's about to thank me so I silence him with kisses and soft phrases whispered into the perfect whorl of his ear.

I know it as he clenches slender, pale hands in my hair and kisses my nose.

I know it as we get into a tickle-fight, followed by a game of Uno (Which we cut short, because the ocean breeze is cold and we're so _tired_), followed by a trip to the kitchen where we just stare at each other and eat sinfully good chocolate cookies that Cy made.

I know it as I walk him to his room, tasting the chocolate on his tongue before opening his door and throwing him into his room so I don't ravish him then and there.

I know it as I dream that night, of an indigo-eyed ebony-haired boy wrapped in sheets of silver silk, who feeds me cookies and wine. From time to time, he catches me staring and fucking _glows_, a silver band around his left ring-finger.


End file.
